Sins of the Moon
by DaughterOfPoseidon333
Summary: Skye Smith wakes up in the woods with no memories. And to make matters worse, it's a full moon and something in the woods is bent on killing her. As she runs for her life, a man (who looks very much like the beast chasing her) comes to her rescue. With his help, Skye starts to remember. But what she finds in her past could destroy them both. Derek/OC. Set between S2 and S3.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everybody! New story time! This is my first time writing for Teen Wolf, so any feedback would be very much appreciated.**

** This story takes place in between seasons 2 and 3. It will revolve mostly around my OC and Derek, but will have appearances from Peter for sure and perhaps some other characters.**

** DISCLAIMER: I own my OC. I do not own Teen Wolf!**

** Enjoy!**

**-:-**

Skye had been running so far and so fast she felt like her lungs were going to explode any second now.

Her legs felt like jelly, her breaths were coming in ragged, panting gasps, but she kept running. She could still hear that _thing _behind her. She didn't know what it was. At least, she didn't _think _she knew. Somewhere in the back of her mind something—a feeling or a memory tugged—but she couldn't put her finger on it. Just like everything else since she had woken up in the middle of the woods. She just knew that whatever it was, it wasn't human. That much had been clear when she'd first seen its glowing blue eyes staring at her maliciously, hungrily.

As she weaved through the trees, combat boots pounding the soft earth, she tried again to think, to find the memories that seemed to have disappeared completely from her brain. _My name is Skye Smith, _she thought. _I am 22 years old. I was born in…I was born in…_nothing. There was nothing. God, she didn't even know where she had been _born. _She knew her name, her age, and that was it. She couldn't remember anything else before waking up. She resisted the urge to let out a frustrated cry. _Why is this happening? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?! _

Skye heard a growl rip through the silence behind her and mistakenly whipped her head around. She saw the beast's vibrant eyes and the sandy-colored hair covering its face. Her racing heart climbed into her throat. _Keep running! Keep running, Skye! _Her eyes struggled to see in the dark, the towering trees only throwing more shadows in her path. The only light came from the full moon floating in the sky. Even then, the trees broke up the silvery light, creating dapples of light on the forest floor.

A loud noise sounded at her left and she cried out in surprise as the monster came crashing through the foliage, swatting her aside as if she were nothing more than a ragdoll. Skye gasped as she landed hard on her back, whatever air she had left rushing out of her lungs, stars dancing in front of her eyes. When her vision cleared, Skye saw the beast looming over her, animalistic teeth cared. She felt her jaw drop in silent horror. Part of her wanted to simply lay there and submit. It didn't really matter if she died now anyway, right? It's not like she remembered the life she would be leaving. But then again, she wanted nothing more to live. She didn't want to die; not like this. Something instinctual, nearly primal, tore at her insides, screaming at her to _move_.

Tapping into the adrenaline that was pumping through her veins she found the strength to crawl backwards, keeping her eyes locked on the humanoid thing in front of her. It watched her every move, fangs out, claws glinting in the moonlight. When she was several feel away, she quickly flipped around and stumbled to her feet.

But she misjudged how the creature was and how fast it could get to her. one second she was fine, and then she felt its claws rake across her back, tearing her shirt and jacket, ripping through her flesh as if it were paper. Skye screamed and fell on all fours. She could feel blood seeping from the wound, soaking her clothes, the coppery scent filling her nose. She gasped in pain, trying to crawl away, but it yanked her shoulder. She was pushed back against the leaves littering the ground. With one clawed hand holding her down, the other raised up, poised to slash her throat.

Skye was sure she was going to die. She couldn't move, didn't have the energy to. She could see it now—her body mutilated and torn, found in the woods by some hikers, blood coating her skin, nothing more than a Jane Doe. She was scared. Memories or not, she had a gut feeling that if she was gone, she'd be leaving behind people that cared about her. She didn't know whether that meant family or friends or someone more, but whoever it was, she didn't want them to find her ripped apart. The creature above her growled loudly, its hand twitching down towards her neck.

Just as it was about to end her life, a huge figure appeared, looming out of the shadows beside the creature and barreled into it, sending them both flying. Skye looked on in surprise, wiping matted, dark blonde hair from her sweat-sticky forehead. The newcomer stood, clearly a male, seeing as he was far too tall, shoulders too wide to be a woman. Skye couldn't tell much about him, aside from his dark hair. she was about to write him off as normal—or as normal as you can be when you're wandering around in the woods in the middle of the night and decide to body-slam some horror-movie type beast—but then he turned to look at her. Thick facial hair ran along his jaw, heavy brow and eyes that glowed blood red. Everything about him was sharp, from his pointed ears to his claws and razor teeth.

But he didn't attack her like the other, smaller, sandy-colored one. Instead as the other creature began to rise to its feet, the new man (or beast, whatever he was) lunged, claws outstretched. They fought, nothing more than a blur amongst the shadows. As she watched, Skye eased back against a tree, curling in on herself, trying to be as small as possible. The two men exchanged blows, the smaller one that attacked her not getting in nearly as many hits, but managing to slash up the other pretty good. Blood sprayed as claws struck flesh, teeth gnashed together, and Skye could only watch as exhaustion started to seep into her bones. She would have thought this was some horrible nightmare, that she was about to wake up in a warm bed, memories intact, except for the fact that her body ached too much, and her back felt like it was on fire.

Finally, the man who'd helped her struck the other's chest, claws going deep. The beast howled and fell to its knees. The man stood above him in a slight crouch and let loose a roar, the sound ripping from his throat and echoing through the night, piercing Skye's ears. The smaller one sank lower to the ground, cowering. The roar cut off and the creature scampered off, disappearing into the trees.

Now Skye was left with her savior, a man with the same face as the thing that had tried to kill her. But this time when he turned to look at her, he looked normal. His eyes were no longer red, the thick fur on his face now a mere shadow of stubble. His tee was in ribbons, several slashes across his chest and back, but it looked as if the bleeding was already stopping. How was that possible? Then again, a minute ago his eyes had been glowing so quick healing wasn't all that surprising. He approached her slowly and when he reached out a hand, there were no claws. Skye stared at him warily, not wanting to trust him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said as if sensing her thoughts.

Hearing his voice—the deep roughness of an ordinary human—and not a growl, made her relax a little. But still, Skye hesitated. She didn't have any memories—just a wall that was blocking her from her old life—an alarm still rang in her head. There was something very dark and dangerous about the person in front of her. She felt the sudden urge to find something, anything, she could use to strike him down and get the hell out of there. But she was in no condition to fight. Her back hurt, and she could already feel bruises blossoming where the other had struck her.

"You know, if I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead," the man commented, noticing her struggle. "But if you really want, I can leave you out here to bleed to death."

Swallowing her doubts, Skye reluctantly took his outstretched hand, allowing him to help her to her feet.

"Can you stand?" he asked, eyes watching her warily, other hand poised to catch her if she fell.

She nodded, ignoring the twisting, knotted feeling in her stomach. She didn't want to have to rely on him more than she already did. As it turned out, that was a mistake, though, as her head spun and she pitched forward. The last thing she saw before blacking out was her rescuers' strong arms reaching out to break her fall.

**-:-**

** So there's the first chapter! Hope you guys liked it! I know it was kind of short, but there will be some longer chapters soon.**

** I don't know how long this story will be yet. I'm working on the next chapter now and will try to get it up soon! If it takes longer than a week or so, be patient and know that it **_**is **_**in progress!**

** Please review! It really means a lot and any constructive criticism you have would be very much appreciated!**

** Thank you for reading!**

** -DaughterOfPoseidon333**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry about the late update, guys! I really meant to update sooner, but I was just not feeling the inspiration. **

** But, anyway, THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the follows and favorites and the reviews so far! You have no idea how much it means to me, so thank you!**

** I don't own Teen Wolf. Just Skye.**

** Enjoy!**

**-:-**

Derek watched as Deaton pulled the thread taut on the last stitch and tied it off.

"There," Deaton announced. "All finished."

"Thank you," Derek replied earnestly, taking his eyes off the, now stitched-up, unconscious girl for a moment to look at Deaton.

Deaton nodded as he packed up his bag. "I'm glad you called. You said a werewolf did this?"

"Yeah." Derek gave a sharp nod of his head.

"But you didn't recognize them?"

Derek shook his head. "No. they didn't seem to recognize me either, so whoever it was, they must've come from out of town. I scared it off pretty good, but I'll let you know if they show up."

"Sounds good. And let me know when she wakes up. I'd like to check those wounds again as well."

"Sure," Derek agreed.

Deaton cast one last glance at the girl, gave Derek a respectful smile, and then headed out of Derek's newly inhabited loft. The loft had been a nice change from the underground station he'd been in before. The building was deserted aside from him, but the kitchen and bathroom upstairs were fully functional, so it was perfect for a jobless, trying-to-lay-low werewolf who often had to clean blood off the floor. After the girl blacked out in the woods, Derek supposed he could have brought her straight to the animal clinic for Deaton's help, but there was something about her…something he couldn't quite put a finger on that made him want to keep her close so he could keep an eye on her.

He stood, arms crossed, next to his bed, watching as her chest rose and fell with each breath she took. Deaton had rolled her on her side so he could stich up the slashes on her back, and they both had agreed to leave her that way, allowing the wounds to breathe. They had taken her jacket off, and Deaton had cut away the ruined half of her shirt, leaving a majority of the skin of her back and abdomen exposed. Aside from the slashes, she had several smaller scratches and bruises, which was to be expected after running for your life away from a bloodthirsty werewolf. What _wasn't _expected was all the scars she had mapping her skin. They marked her back, her sides, her arms. Some were bigger, some smaller, but they practically glowed silver in the moonlight that was filtering in from the bay window. It only made Derek wonder, if she was so ordinary, what had she been through that would cause her to be decorated in so many scars?

"Brooding about the new lost puppy you've brought home?" Peter's voice drawled from behind him.

Derek rolled his eyes, knowing his uncle couldn't see the act of annoyance.

"She's not a lost puppy," Derek muttered argumentatively, turning to face Peter.

"No?" Peter raised his brows in disbelief. "She's a little older than all the other adolescents running around with their claws out on the full moon, I'll give you that. But you've taken her under your wing just like them."

"She's not even a werewolf, Peter," Derek countered.

Peter paused, searching out the girl's scent, then tilting his head in acknowledgement at finding that there was no scent of werewolf on her; aside from the one that had attacked her, that is.

"What? Did you think I was lying about her being human?" Derek scoffed.

"I like to double check my facts," Peter replied. "You can never be too sure in this town."

Derek didn't say anything. He wasn't exactly the most trusting person either, so he couldn't really blame Peter for questioning him. Peter, sensing that Derek was done with the conversation shrugged and headed towards the sliding door of the loft.

"Where're you going?" Derek asked firmly. He didn't trust too many people, and his newly resurrected uncle was not among the ones he trusted.

"To wreak havoc, cause mass destruction, maybe eat a few people," Peter said with a smirk.

Derek frowned. "I'm serious, Peter. If you hurt _anyone_—"

"Oh, calm down," Peter sighed, exasperated. "I'm starving. I was just gonna go pick up a pizza."

Derek relaxed, his shoulders falling.

"You want anything?" Peter asked, hand on the door.

Derek shook his head. "No."

"Well, mystery girl there might want something when she wakes up. Running from werewolves is tiring business."

"Fine," Derek sighed. "Pick up an extra pizza."

"What do you think she likes? Cheese? Pepperoni? You know, she seems like a 3-meat kind of girl—"

"Just go!" Derek snapped and he could hear Peter laughing as he headed out, shutting the door behind him, leaving Derek alone with the girl from the woods.

-:-:-:-:-

Skye struggled to pull herself out from underneath the lead weight of unconsciousness. Her head felt heavy and stuffy, everything a blurry mess. Her eyelids weighed a thousand pounds, and it seemed like trying to open them just exhausted her. She was waking up, she knew that, but at the same time, sleep whispered in her ear, murmured sweet lullabies, trying to lull her back to under. But it was so damn _difficult. _Her mouth was dry, cottony, her tongue like sandpaper. Her muscles were heavy and sore. She tried to move, tried to shift her body just a little, and arcs of pain lanced through her, making her not want to move ever again.

But she had to wake up. She felt like she'd been asleep for a year, and she needed to know how much time had _really _passed since she had blacked out in the woods after being attacked—_holy shit! _Skye's eyes snapped open and she sat up, ignoring the throbbing ache in her back that made her grind her teeth together. Imaged rushed into her head all at once. The moon hanging high in the sky as she ran, breaths coming out in gasps. Glowing blue eyes, cold as ice. Growls breaking past a fanged mouth, claws flashing, ripping her skin. _Wolf, _something in the back of her mind said, but she had no idea why she thought that. And it's not like she could even _remember why _she would think something like that, because her memories were still gone.

Skye gingerly reached around her back, fingers brushing over her wounds. Someone had stitched them up. She looked down. That someone had also cut her shirt—probably to get to her injuries—and the fabric now reached barely half way down her torso. She was still in her jeans and boots, but her jacket had been discarded nearby on the floor. She glanced around and saw no one. There was a chair by the bed, like someone had been sitting vigil, watching over her, but whoever that could have been was gone. Through the large bay windows she could see the sky turning a rosy pink, washing out the dark blue-black color that remained from the night. Dawn. Whether that meant dawn after that night, or dawn days after, she didn't know. Either way, she had to get out of there.

She eased herself to the edge of the bed, trying to be as quiet as possible. Someone could be here with her. Maybe the beast-like man who had saved her, maybe someone else. She'd rather take her chances on her own, even if she was injured and memory-less. Skye grabbed her jacket and shrugged it on. It was ripped from where the creature's claws had sliced open the fabric, but the leather touch against her mostly-bare back gave her comfort. She crept towards the door, her senses on high-alert. Skye wished she had a weapon of some sorts, _anything, _really, that she could use. A gun would have been nice. _A gun? _she thought. _Do I even know how to _shoot _a gun? _She shook the thought loose and decided she would settle for getting out of there as fast as she could.

The distance between the bed and the door felt like miles, but finally, she could reach out and touch the rusted, worn metal of the door. Though how she was going to open in without making too much noise, she had no idea—

"Going somewhere?"

Skye had to keep herself from screaming, but she jumped out of her skin nonetheless as the voice sounded behind her. She turned slowly, eyes settling on the man who had saved her. He looked normal still, which made her relax a little, but not enough. Her muscles were still taut, poise to make an escape if need-be.

"I want to leave," she said, surprised at how steady her voice sounded. She felt like her insides were going to liquefy from how nervous she was.

"That's probably not a good idea," he said slowly after a moment, seeming almost as surprised as she was that she had spoken.

"You can't keep me here against my will," she argued, slowly reaching behind her for the handle of the door.

"I didn't say you _couldn't _go, I just said it probably isn't a good idea."

"Why not? You can't honestly tell me that I'm safer here with you. You're a-a…" Skye faltered, stumbling over her words. She had no freakin' clue as to what he was. _Wolf, _she thought again. But that couldn't possibly be it…could it? The man raised his eyebrows, watching her fumble, and she swore she saw a hint of amusement on his face.

"What am I, exactly?" he asked, voice low, challenging, as he took a step closer to her.

Skye swallowed. "I don't know."

"Look," he started, his green eyes watching her carefully. "I'm not going to hurt you. If anything, I want to help you. My name's Derek, by the way."

She looked at him, trying to find a tell, trying to see if he was lying. But his features were open, his voice gentle, eyes honest. She remembered his words from the night before: _you know, if I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead. _She supposed he was telling the truth. And if he really wanted to cause her harm, he wouldn't have stitched up her wounds, wouldn't have brought her somewhere safe. Wouldn't have saved her in the first place.

"Skye," she mumbled, slowly dropping her hand from the door, hoping he, Derek, didn't notice. "Skye Smith."

"Skye," Derek nodded, testing the syllable. "Why don't we sit down and, uh, talk about what happened last night."

She nodded in acknowledgment, stepping away from the door. Derek's green gaze was intense on her, probably watching to see if she would try and escape. She made her way over to the bed she had been laying down and sat down on the edge, spine straight. She couldn't seem to relax. Probably because she still wasn't sure if she could trust Derek, even if he _had _saved her.

"Last night," Derek began as he sat down in the chair next to the bed. "What do you remember?"

Skye paused, wishing she had some memory to go off of as to why she had been in the woods in the first place. "I remember waking up in the woods…and then that guy, that thing came after me. And then you showed up and I blacked out."

Derek looked unimpressed. "That's it?"

"That's it," she confirmed. "Sorry I can't give you more."

Derek stared at her, looking slightly dumbfounded. "Well, what were you doing in the woods?"

Skye bit her lip, folding her hands in her lap to keep from fidgeting. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Derek asked, voice rising.

Skye looked at him defiantly, her frustration at her lost memories bubbling to the surface. "I mean _I don't know! _I have no memories before waking up in the woods and I just want to _remember._"

Derek softened a little at her outburst. "So, you don't remember anything?"

Skye shook her head. "No. Like, I know that that I'm twenty-two. I know my favorite color is blue. I'm pretty sure that if I got in a car, I would remember how to drive. But I don't remember where I'm from or how I ended up here….where is _here _exactly, anyway?"

"Beacon Hills," Derek answered automatically, though he looked troubled by her diagnosis of her amnesia.

_Beacon Hills, _Skye echoed in her head. She _thought _it sounded familiar. There was something there, in the back of her head, scratching at the wall that was blocking much-needed memories…_Beacon Hills. Glowing eyes. Claws. Full moon. Wolves. Wolves, wolves, wolves. Wolves and Beacon Hills—_

"_Werewolf,_" Skye murmured, something—though she wasn't sure what—clicking in her brain, bringing forth one word from her subconscious.

Derek's head snapped up, his eyes burning as he stared at her. "What did you say?"

"I—werewolf. You, you're a werewolf, aren't you?" Skye stammered, trying to not to shy away from his intense gaze.

Derek frowned, brows sitting broodingly low over his eyes. The air was charged with tension. And it was silent, so silent. Skye was sure she would hear a pin drop.

"Yes," Derek said after a pause, breaking the thick silence. "How do you know that?"

"I don't know," she replied. "It just popped into my head. Beacon Hills…I think I might have been here before."

Though Derek still looked troubled, he did a pretty good job of hiding any other emotions he might have been feeling.

"That's a start at least," he said. "I have a couple people who might be able to help with your memory."

He eyed her up and down. "You should probably shower first, though. And change." He added on.

"Yeah," Skye mumbled, looking down at her tattered shirt and blood-stained jeans.

"I have a bathroom upstairs that you can use and I'll find an extra shirt for you to wear till we can get you some new clothes." Derek offered. "My uncle is out getting some food; he should be back soon."

Skye nodded, not really knowing what to say. So she allowed Derek to simply lead her upstairs and show here where the bathroom was. Just as he was turning to go, Skye stopped him.

"Thank you," she said earnestly, clutching the t-shirt he'd given her in her hands.

"For?" he asked, brows raised.

"For saving my life. And for helping me. I mean, you don't even know me…" she trailed off, realizing that _she _didn't even know who she was. "I just…thank you."

He seemed a little taken aback, like he wasn't used to being thanked. But then a small smile pulled up the corners of his mouth. "You're welcome."

And with that, he turned and headed back downstairs. Skye still wasn't sure if she completely trusted him. He was a _werewolf, _after all, and something—the same something that had produced the word 'werewolf' in the first place—screamed at her that trusting a werewolf was the _last _thing she should be doing. But at the moment, she didn't have a choice. If she wanted any hope of getting her memories back, she would have to have some faith that he wouldn't turn around and rip her throat out. She clutched the shirt he'd given her tighter, knuckles turning white, wondering what the hell she'd gotten herself into.

**-:-**

** So there's chapter 2!**

** I know the story isn't moving super fast right now, but we'll get more on Skye and her past in the next chapter, which I will (**_**hopefully**_**) have up in the next week.**

** Please, please review! It would really mean a lot to me! I would love to get some more feedback on what your theories are, what you think of Skye, how you think I'm portraying Derek and Peter, anything! Just please review! It would mean so much!**

** Thanks for reading!**

** -DaughterOfPoseidon333**

**P.S. Any typos are mine, and I apologize. I don't always catch them during my proofreading.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, guys! So sorry for taking so long to update! Life has been crazy lately!**

** Thank you all so much for the reviews, follows, and favorites; you guys are amazing and I appreciate the support so much! So thank you!**

** I don't own Teen Wolf. Just Skye :)**

** Enjoy!**

**-:-**

Skye had to admit, once she stepped under the stream of warm water, that a shower was _exactly _what she needed. The water pounded against the sore and sensitive skin of her back, releasing some of the knots that she had built up due to worry. It felt good to wash out the dirt and grime and blood that seemed to have made its way all the way down to her bones. The scent of Derek's shampoo filled her nostrils, soothing her.

Once she finished, she stepped out into the moderately sized bathroom, wrapping the towel Derek had left her around her wet body. Without a comb, she was left to simply rake her fingers through her blonde hair. As she finished toweling off, she glanced around the bathroom, noting how clean it was. The counter next to the sink was bare minus his toothbrush and toothpaste. Skye ran her tongue over her teeth, wishing _she _had a toothbrush. But whoever had dumped her in the woods hadn't been kind enough to leave her such a thing. She had gone through her jeans and hadn't even found a wallet.

Skye finished drying off, hanging the now damp towel over the shower to dry. Making sure the bathroom door was locked, she turned and inspected her naked body in the full length mirror on the back of the door. She twisted, wincing when the wounds on her back protested the movement. They were stitched up nicely; professional looking. She poked some of the larger bruises on her torso, ran her fingers along the scrapes she'd acquired while running through the woods. It seemed very familiar to her, all the cuts and bruises. Judging by the scars on her body, it seemed like she'd been through a lot of tough spots.

Sighing, she put her bra and underwear on, then pulled Derek's shirt over her head. It was too wide for her, but given her fairly tall build, it only skimmed the tops of her thighs. She grabbed her jeans and frowned. They were covered in blood and dirt, much too filthy to put on her now clean body. There were holes in the knees, but they'd been there when she'd first woken up in the woods. Given that this was her only pair of pants for the time being, she decided to ask Derek if he could wash them for her.

Unlocking the bathroom door, Skye stepped out, turning to shut the door behind her. When she rotated back around, she stopped short, eyes traveling up to look into the face of a man that wasn't Derek. She remembered Derek saying something about his uncle before and wondered if this was him. There was something in the sharp lines of his face, his dark hair, and his tall and muscular build that reminded her of Derek, but that was where the resemblance ended.

"You must be Skye," the man said, crooked smile on his face. He was a charmer, and with his looks, it worked, but not on her.

"You must be the uncle Derek mentioned," Skye replied.

"I prefer Peter," he grinned, giving her a quick once over.

"Right…" Feeling self-conscious all the sudden, Skye tugged on the hem of Derek's tee, wishing it were longer. She gripped her jeans tightly in her other hand, ready to chuck them at Peter's face and run if he tried anything.

"Peter, leave her alone," Derek's voice sounded as he rounded the corner and Skye had never been so relieved to see him. Derek shot a disapproving look at his uncle, but Skye didn't miss the quick glance he cast in her direction first.

"Oh, come on," Peter complained in a mocking voice. "I'm just trying to make some friends."

"Yeah, no one wants to be your friend," Derek said bluntly and Skye would've laughed if Peter hadn't been standing so close. She didn't think Peter would hurt her—at worst, he only seemed intrigued by her—but that didn't mean she had to like him.

"Wow, Derek, why don't you just tell me how you really feel," Peter grumbled.

"Fine," Derek shrugged. "Go away."

"I live here, too, you know," Peter pointed out.

"Yeah, well, you can go downstairs or something. There's plenty of other space that you can _live _in."

"You're just as bossy and moody as your mother," Peter muttered.

"Hey, she was your sister," Derek called back to him as Peter headed down the hall. She heard his footsteps on the metal staircase just a few seconds later.

Skye smiled as Peter went, leaving her and Derek alone. She had a feeling she'd been in many situations where'd she'd bickered with someone—or multiple someone's—over meaningless things. Watching Peter and Derek exchange banter so effortlessly both amused her and gave her a feeling of longing for whoever it was that she once conversed with. Pushing her troubling thoughts away, she turned to Derek, who eyed her dirty jeans.

"You need me to wash those?" he asked, holding out a hand to take them.

"Uh, yeah," Skye said, handing them over. "That would be great. Thanks."

"No problem." Derek shrugged. "There's pizza in the kitchen. I'm sure you're hungry, so,"

Skye didn't actually realize how hungry she was until he mentioned it. The thought of pizza—the cheese, the grease-made her stomach rumble in protest, making her realize just how empty it was. Derek seemed to hear her stomach grumble and he chuckled softly as he led her around the corner and into a large, open kitchen. There was dark table in the middle of the room with two mismatched chairs—one with a red, vinyl seat and steel back, and the other dark brown wood like the table. Sitting on the table was two pizza boxes, a couple of paper plates, and a six pack of beers. Skye practically drooled at the sight of the food. One of the pizzas was three-quarters gone, and Skye assumed Peter had gotten first dibs.

"Help yourself." Derek gestured towards the table, giving her a small smile.

Skye did just that. She finished her first piece in record time, barely taking a breath as she inhaled her food. Even Derek seemed impressed.

"When was the last time you ate?" he asked, then seemed to realize what he'd asked after Skye gave him a pointed look and then shrugged. "Right. You can't remember anything, so obviously you can't remember the last time you ate. Let's just hope you're not lactose intolerant."

Skye shook her head. "I'm not. I _do _know that. Again, it's like some things I can remember, no problem, but anything related to what happened to me or how I got here beats me."

Derek nodded, her forehead creased, mouth down in a slight frown, features overall pensive. Skye noticed that he seemed to frown a lot. Somehow, though, it suited him. She'd probably be a little wierded out if he smiled all the time. As she chewed, she took the time to really look at him. Since he'd rescued her and she'd realized what he was, all she expected when she looked at him was that he could wolf out at any second. So she took a figurative step back to look at the _man _that had saved her.

Despite his seemingly constant grumpy expression, he was attractive, she wouldn't deny that. He had the whole tall, dark, and handsome thing going for him, only adding to the air of danger and mystery that surrounded him like a storm cloud. His face was unreadable. She could tell if he was upset or thinking, but his features never gave any hint to the deeper thoughts that ran through his mind and through his heart. His eyes did, though. She supposed there was some truth to the whole 'the eyes are windows to the soul' thing. Sure, Derek could harden his gaze, make his face a blank mask. Anyone could if they tried hard enough. But here, in his loft, where he was safe, the walls dropped and she could see what lay underneath. He was kind and gentle and caring, despite his hard edges, forged by what she was sure was something of immense suffering.

Skye decided she like Derek. Maybe even trusted him a little.

She wondered, though, would she trust him when she found out about her past? Would he regret saving her once _he _knew about her past?

"You said you knew someone who could help me?" Skye said suddenly, brushing crumbs off her hands.

Derek nodded. "Yeah. He's kind of an expert on these things."

"And by 'these things' you mean the supernatural?"

"Yes," Derek affirmed. "He's the one who sewed you up."

By mention of her injuries, she could almost feel them burn more intensely than before. She shifted in her seat.

"So, is he a doctor or something?" she asked.

Derek gave her a wry smile, his green eyes twinkling with the knowledge of knowing something she didn't. "Kind of,"

"The hell does that mean?"

"Well, he's a doctor, just not one who works on humans," Derek said like it cleared everything up. "He's a veterinarian."

"Oh," was all Skye said. _Sure, why not? _she thought. After all, werewolves existed. So a vet who doubled as an expert in the supernatural and dabbled in the art of stitching people back together didn't really surprise her all that much.

"What if it doesn't pan out?" Skye asked in a quieter tone, voicing her doubts. "What if he doesn't know how to help me get my memories back?"

"Well," Derek started slowly, flexing his fingers, and Skye thought his claws were going to pop out. "I have something else I can try if it doesn't work. But I figured we'd go to him first. His methods are a little less painful."

He said it so bluntly, almost casually, that Skye's head snapped up to meet his gaze. Looking at him—the coolness of his gaze, the way his hands sat half-open on the table, reaching towards her like flicking out his claws and slashing her throat would be no problem—she understood why werewolves were something to be feared if you got on their bad side. The man sitting across from her was incredibly deadly; a top predator. If she blinked wrong he could end her life and she probably wouldn't have time to even beg for her life.

"Well," Skye said, swallowing down an fear she had. "What are we waiting for?"

She pushed herself up from the table and upon feeling Derek's gaze on her, realized what the problem was.

"Shit," she muttered.

"Pants would probably help," Derek said, finishing her thoughts out loud, trying to stifle a laugh as he spoke. "We can leave in an hour."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"You ready?" Derek asked Skye as he cut the engine.

Skye paused, taking a look out the windshield at the animal clinic. He watched her take a deep breath. He could smell the nervousness on her—and a hint of fear—but she was trying to bury them both and he admired her for that. She turned to look at him, a small smile on her face, meant to comfort herself more than him.

"Let's go," she said, unbuckling her seatbelt and climbing out of his car.

Derek followed suit, leading her into the building. It was early afternoon on a Sunday, and when they walked in, Deaton was just finishing up with a customer at the counter. Deaton noticed Derek and gave him a slight nod in acknowledgement. Skye stood by his side, arms crossed over her chest, quietly taking everything in. Derek watched the older lady at the front desk. She had a dog carrier on the floor next to her. Inside was a golden retriever puppy, one of his front legs bandaged up. Derek could sense the pup's restlessness, the pain it felt flooded through the bars of its carrier. The puppy whined and the woman tried to quiet it, her brow knit in concern.

Derek stepped forward. "May I?" he asked the woman quietly, gesturing to the puppy. Deaton gave him a small smile, and he could feel Skye's gaze on his back. "I'm really good with dogs,"

The woman nodded, a grateful smile brightening her worried features. "Yes, thank you."

Derek opened the cage and took the pup into his arms, walking slowly back over to Skye so Deaton could finish speaking to its owner. Skye watched him, eyes flicking between him and the puppy.

Skye gently turned the puppy's tag over in her fingers, reading the name carved into the little metal plate. "Says his name is 'Gunner',"

Derek traced a hand over Gunner's broken leg, and the pup let out a tiny whimper. He could smell the painkillers Deaton had given the dog, but they were slowly wearing off. Derek tapped into his wolf side, sending out a soothing presence to the puppy. It calmed quickly, nestling more comfortably in his arms. Running his hand up and across the dog's back, he took some of its slowly returning pain. It ran through his veins black, like a disease, and Derek exhaled slowly.

Skye watched him closely, her mouth open a little in awe, which made Derek feel all that much better about what he'd done. He could tell that Skye didn't trust him completely, and he had a feeling it had something to do with her knowing that he was a werewolf. He wasn't sure if he trusted her completely, either, especially with him not knowing who she was or where she came from. But he decided that baby steps were best.

Deaton finished with his customer and Derek gently placed the puppy back in its carrier as the woman thanked him. The minute she was gone, Deaton stepped out from behind the counter and flipped the sign on his door from 'open' to 'closed'. Then he gestured for them to follow him into the back.

"Any sign of that other werewolf?" Deaton asked as he picked up.

"No," Derek replied, casting a quick glance over at Skye, who had stayed a step behind him. "Haven't really looked yet, though. I've got its scent, so when I get the chance, tracking it won't be hard."

Deaton simply nodded, then turned to face the both of them. He reached out a hand towards Skye, which she shook.

"Deaton," the vet introduced himself.

"Skye," she replied, letting her hand fall back to her side.

"How are your stiches holding?" Deaton asked.

"Fine," Skye replied earnestly. "Thank you for helping me,"

"Well, Derek here didn't give me much of a choice," Deaton eyed him pointedly.

"You had a choice," Derek corrected. "Helping her was just the right one."

Deaton rolled his eyes, and then his expression quickly turned to one of confusion. "So, why are you here, then? Is everything all right?"

"Not exactly," Derek replied, looking at Skye. "She can't remember anything."

Once they filled Deaton in on the situation, they led him back to his office. It was fairly small, walls painted dark blue. Deaton's degrees and awards hung on the walls behind his desk, but other than that, there were no decorations. The furniture in the room consisted of a basic black desk with a computer monitor sitting on it, a lamp in one corner, and a small brown couch and matching chair.

"Skye, why don't you lie down on the couch," Deaton suggested. She did so warily, her body tense.

Derek stood behind Deaton as the vet took a seat in the chair across from her. He crossed his arms over his chest, exchanging a look with Skye. He gave her a comforting look and saw her noticeably relax.

"Skye," Deaton started softly, as if he were talking to a wounded animal. "I don't think this is a supernatural occurrence, your memory loss?"

Skye looked as confused as ever. "You don't?"

"What do you think it is?" Derek asked before Deaton could answer Skye's question.

"I think it's _you, _Skye," Deaton told her, but the answer was for Derek as well. "I think…_something happened_ to you and now you're blocking out memories associated with whatever it is that happened. It's called Dissociative Amnesia."

Skye didn't say anything, but Derek watched her brow wrinkle just the slightest, like she was thinking back, trying to remember what would have put her in this state.

"I'm going to perform hypnosis on you, to try and unblock those memories," Deaton explained.

"Okay," Skye agreed.

"All right, lie back and I need you to _relax_," Deaton said softly, his voice soothing. "I want you relax completely. Clear your mind."

Skye settled into the couch, folding her hands across her stomach. Derek saw her body sag, relaxation settling into her limbs, weighing them down. Her eyes shut and she took a few deep breaths, the fabric of his shirt that she was still wearing falling up and down with each breath.

"Good," Deaton said. "I'm going to countdown from ten…"

Derek watched Skye as Deaton counted down. She looked like she was asleep. Either that or dead. The only sign that gave proof that she was alive was the movement of her chest going up and down.

"Skye, can you hear me?" Deaton asked.

"Yes," she replied, her voice sounding like it was from very far away.

"Skye, what can you tell me about that night in the woods?"

"A woke up and a werewolf chased after me," Skye replied, voice clear, but thick with the hypnotic sleep she was under.

"And what happened _before _you woke up in the woods?"

"I don't know,"

"Try to think back," Deaton urged softly. "What happened before you woke up in the woods?"

Skye's brow creased and she didn't speak right away. "There was a car," she said, her voice extremely soft.

"What kind of car?" Deaton asked.

"Black, an SUV," she responded.

"What were you doing in the car?"

"Driving here. I was with someone. And…and there was blood. A lot of blood."

Deaton exchanged a look with Derek, looking just as troubled as Derek felt.

"Whose blood was it?' Deaton asked slowly.

"I don't know."

"Skye, whose blood was on the car?" the vet repeated.

"It wasn't on the car," Skye replied, eyes moving rapidly under her closed lids, like she was watching a slideshow with images that moved too fast. "It was on _me._"

Deaton frowned. "Skye, what happened before you woke up in the woods?" Deaton repeated his earlier question.

"I don't know," she half whimpered, shifting on the couch, her fingers twitching restlessly.

"Skye, what happened?" Deaton asked more forcefully.

Skye's body writhed on the couch, her feet digging into the cushions, hands clenching, trying to find purchase. Her head thrashed from side to side. She gasped suddenly, but her eyes didn't open, and Deaton quickly leapt up from his seat, counting down from ten again to wake her up. Derek hovered over Deaton's shoulder, watching Skye as her eyes slowly fluttered open.

"Skye, what did you see?" Deaton asked softly.

Her forehead had broken out in a light sheen of sweat, her cheeks bright with color. Her blue eyes looked scared, haunted by the images she'd seen in her head. She glanced at Deaton before her gaze flicked to Derek's face. He met her eyes, willing her to speak.

Skye swallowed, and when she spoke, Derek was surprised her heard her.

"I think I killed somebody."

**-:-**

**So there's chapter 3! I hope you all enjoyed!**

**I guess I won't make any promises on when I will update next. I will try really, Really, REALLY hard to update within a week, but it might be two. I will try not to make it more than two weeks again. But we'll see. I'm off to college in about a month, so I'm kinda busy trying to pack and whatnot. So just be patient with me!**

**Please review! I really like hearing your feedback and your theories, so if you could just please leave a review, that would be amazing!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-DaughterOfPoseidon333**

**P.S. Excuse any typos. It's late :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, guys! Thank you so much for all the lovely support; you guys are the best and it really means a lot to me! And I'm glad that you guys are liking Skye so much :)**

** I don't own Teen Wolf.**

** Enjoy!**

**-:-**

"This is stupid," Skye muttered from the passenger seat. She stared out the windshield, not really seeing the road in front of them. Out of her peripheral, she saw Derek glance over at her. She wasn't surprised; she'd barely said a word since getting out of Deaton's clinic, so Derek was probably startled to hear her speak again. Except Derek was never startled. At least it didn't seem like it. Even when she'd come out of her trance at the clinic and declared that she'd killed someone. Sure, his eyes had widened, but there had been something else in his eyes too….like a suspicion of his had been confirmed. _So, what? _She thought. _He's suspected I'm a killer this whole time? _

"Deaton said that driving around would help," Derek replied. "He said you might recognize something."

Skye exhaled, knowing he was right. She hadn't recognized anything so far, but she had a feeling in her gut that something would trigger her buried memories. At least she hoped it would.

"And you remember nothing else?" Derek asked again.

He'd asked her after they'd left the clinic, but she said other than remembering that she _wasn't _born in Beacon Hills, there wasn't anything really. He had heard what she'd said during her hypnosis, and that was enough. She didn't want to share the images she saw. A dark SUV with her in the passenger seat. There had been a man—someone familiar, close to her—in the driver's seat. She couldn't see their face, only blonde hair like her own. She had been wiping blood off her face, mingled with tears, throwing blood-soaked clothes in the back of the car after having changed into new ones, the ones she had woken up in. The man beside her had blood on him too. He was yelling, trying to get her to calm down. Flashes of a silver knife in her hand which ended up embedded in someone's body. More blood.

As she thought of the images she'd seen, more came into her mind. A big brick house with a black roof, a sign announcing entrance into Beacon County, and yet another sign for Beacon Hills. An open window and blood soaked into pristine white carpet. Two people—an older man and woman—lying on the floor, throats ripped. Fangs and claws and a bloodthirsty glint in eyes that turned from yellow to ice blue. Skye gasped, slumping against her seat in Derek's car.

"Skye?" he asked, not even trying to hide the concern in his voice. "What's wrong? Did you remember something?"

"I—" she broke off, not sure what to make of what she had seen. "I think…um…I think I've been here before."

"_Here?_" Derek echoed. "Meaning Beacon Hills?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Like I said earlier, I wasn't _born _here, but I've definitely been here before." She paused, trying to remember all that she had seen. "I think I was born somewhere in Beacon County, though."

"Well, that's something, at least," Derek said. "We can look to see if anyone's put out a missing persons report, then check to see how many Skye Smiths there are in Beacon County."

Skye nodded in agreement. It was a good plan. Except…a few more images flashed in her mind. They were dark and hard to make out, but she got the gist of it. She touched the back of her head gently, feeling a small bump there that she hadn't noticed before.

"I don't think anyone's looking for me," she said softly, feeling a pang in her heart.

"Why would you think that?"

"Before…before the woods somebody hit me," she said slowly, knowing it to be true as she spoke it out loud. "Whoever hit me left me in the woods."

Derek was silent for a moment, and when Skye looked over at him, his expression was pensive. "I don't suppose you remember who it was that hit you?"

"Unfortunately, no," she muttered.

"All right, well, let's head out of Beacon Hills and drive around a little more," Derek suggested. "Maybe we'll get lucky and you'll see something you recognize."

"Okay." Skye sat nestled back in her seat, trying to be optimistic as she looked out the window to watch for anything familiar. And even as she tried to focus, her mind wandered. She kept going back to the blood on her hands, the blood on her clothes. She was sure she'd killed someone, and it terrified her. It scared her, not so much about the fact that she killed someone—though that freaked her out too—but what scared her most was the feeling that she'd killed before. Her stomach turned.

Skye remembered the claws and teeth and glowing eyes she had seen in her head. She had a sickening feeling she knew what her past consisted of. It was related to her knowing that Derek was a werewolf, related to the red that had covered her hands. She had wanted a gun when she'd tried to get out of the loft, like she was used to using the weapon. All of the pieces were coming together in her head, but she didn't like the image they were creating. Especially considering who—_what_—was sitting next to her. If she was right, they were both screwed.

_Hunter, _she thought. The realization made her chest tighten painfully, made her stomach turn over. She felt like she was going to throw up. She knew, in her gut, that she had done horrible things, but she couldn't _remember _doing them and it was driving her crazy. She struggled to believe that she was _that _kind of person. A killer. A monster herself. So far it seemed like Derek was more human than she was.

"Can you pull over for a minute?" she choked out.

Derek's head snapped in her direction, his features twisted in concern. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Just stop the car!" Skye snapped.

Derek complied pulling over onto the shoulder of the otherwise deserted road. Skye fumbled with her seatbelt before getting it unbuckled. She opened her door and practically fell out of the car. She put her hands on her knees, bending down, expecting to hurl, but nothing came. She was breathing hard, and it felt like she couldn't get enough air into her lungs. She saw Derek come up beside her. He tried to touch her, to console her, but she pulled out of his grasp.

"How are you okay with all of this?" she shouted at him, running a hand through her blonde hair.

Derek said nothing, which only served to frustrate Skye more. She screamed at no one in particular, letting out some of that frustration and anger that she was holding inside of her. She paced along the side of the road, staring off into the trees, gravel crunching under her boots. She could feel Derek watching her.

"How are you so calm about this?" she asked, breathless.

He shrugged, again, saying nothing.

"You know what I am, don't you?" she demanded. Derek's passive expression faltered just the tiniest bit. "_Don't you?_"

"I've had my suspicions," he answered. So he knew. He knew that she was a hunter, and he hadn't said a word to her about it.

"Then why haven't you kicked me to the curb yet? Or-or killed me? Why—_why are you helping me?_" Skye said. "I'm—you know what I am and you should hate me—I don't understand! Wh—"

Derek came forward, his hands grabbing her shoulders gently, and Skye realized she was gasping for breath, shaking.

"Skye," Derek said her name firmly, his green eyes intense on her face, hands moving to hold the sides of her face. "Skye, you need to _calm down._ Just breathe. Breathe, Skye. Breathe,"

Skye forced herself to take a few deep breaths, feeling her body slowly stop trembling. She focused on Derek, the sound of his voice, the warmth from his hands seeping down into her bones. It took a good minute before she had completely settled. Derek slowly let his hands drop from her face and she immediately missed having them there.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, running a hand through her hair again.

"Don't be," Derek said with a shake of his head. Though he's stopped touching her, he stayed close, their bodies just a few inches apart. Skye half wished he'd give her a hug—just to have the comfort of being held in someone else's arms—but Derek didn't seem like the hugging type.

"I just…" she exhaled. "If all that I'm thinking is true…I've done some pretty awful things."

In her head she saw bodies—the bodies of werewolves, some younger, some older. And as their faces flashed in her mind, she couldn't help but think of Derek. Sure, he was a werewolf, but he was human, too. He had a life, a family (even if Peter _was _a little hard to like). Despite his suspicions, he was still helping her. All the werewolves that she'd killed, they had probably been just like him.

Maybe it was okay that she couldn't remember much of her old life. Though it was awful, she was kind of okay with having to live with the regret and guilt, with no one to give her a hug when she needed it. Those people that she'd killed didn't get to go back to their families and friends, so she shouldn't get to either.

"I don't know if I want to be the person I was," she admitted. "Most people would see this as a second chance, but I don't think I deserve one. Not after what I've done."

"We've all done things we're not proud of," Derek murmured, and she saw his eyes darken, filled with the same guilt she could fee eating at her insides. "You know what blue eyes mean, don't you?" he asked.

Skye nodded. Blue meant that the werewolf that bore them had taken the life of an innocent.

Derek sighed, like he was about to confess something huge. He cast his eyes down, and when he looked back up at her, his eyes were bright red. Something in her head said _Alpha. _And she felt like, in the life she couldn't remember, eyes that color would have been threatening, terrifying, a warning that death was near. But now…now she thought they were kind of beautiful. With his eyes red, Derek radiated power, strength. He gave off an air of danger, too, but Skye wasn't afraid.

"Underneath the red," Derek started, the glow slowly fading from his eyes as he spoke. "my eyes are blue."

Skye felt her jaw drop a little, but it wasn't from horror or disgust at the man in front of her. By the tone of his voice she could tell that whatever had happened that had turned his eyes blue, it was something that shouldn't have happened—a tragedy in every sense of the word. She could hear the guilt underlying his words, and she wondered what had happened to him, and if that was what made him closed off like the way he was now. She figured he would shove the question off if she asked, so she left it alone. Skye was sure she had things that she didn't want to share with anyone, so she didn't want to invade his privacy.

"Can you show me again?" she asked instead, a little shy.

Derek gave her the tiniest of smiles, apparently not needing a hint as to what she meant. In a second, his eyes were glowing red again, the color of the blood that had been on her hands. Hesitantly, slowly, she reached up and touched the corners of his eyes, fingers brushing over his skin.

"You're an Alpha," she stated, letting her hand fall back to her side. "You have to kill another wolf to become an Alpha, right?"

Derek nodded.

"So, who did you kill?" she asked, curious. She found it hard to believe that the man who had saved her in the woods was capable of killing another werewolf. Even harder to believe was the fact that he had taken the life of an innocent.

Derek smiled a little at her question. "Peter."

Skye blinked at him, trying to comprehend. "Peter? Peter, like your _uncle _Peter?"

"Yeah," and before Skye could even try and fathom that possibility, Derek shook his head. "It's a long story."

"Okay, I'll just take your word on it," she said with a little laugh.  
"You ready to get going?" Derek asked suddenly.

"Yeah, definitely," she replied, not even waiting before climbing back in the car. The least she could do was to figure out who had wanted her gone enough to leave her out in the middle of the woods to become prey for a bloodthirsty werewolf.

Derek was okay driving around a little longer. It seemed like they had been driving around aimlessly for hours, until they entered a town called Northdenn. Skye leaned forward in her seat, something in her brain _clicking. _Derek looked at her expectantly, but Skye didn't say anything. They had almost passed all the way through town when Skye stopped him.

"Wait, wait, turn here," she said, pointing down a street to the right. Derek pulled the wheel and they turned onto a residential street. The houses were large, with big backyards.

"Stop here," she directed Derek. He pulled in front of a big brick house with a black roof—the same one she had seen in her head. It had a big bay window next to the front door, which was painted a dark blue.

"I live here, I think." She said as she climbed out of the car. Derek followed her, coming to stand alongside her.

"Northdenn," Derek recited the name of the town. "Smaller, but I've heard of werewolves here. It's only an hour or so from Beacon Hills."

Skye had only had half of what he'd said. She had already started heading for the front door. Other, older memories flashed in her head—the older man and woman she'd seen earlier; two boys, one younger, one older, both with blonde hair; a red wagon; silver bullets stamped with some sort of symbol that looked like a cross between a lightning bolt and arrow, surrounded by other details she couldn't make out.

Without even realizing it, Skye had reached the front door. She could feel Derek's presence behind her, but she barely noticed. She raised a fist, trying to keep it from shaking. She took a deep breath, a gut feeling that whoever opened the door would be the one who had left her for dead. Skye knocked.

She held her breath, sensing Derek stiffen beside her. Almost involuntarily, she reached out a hand behind her, finding his. He didn't let go, and she felt him relax a little bit. As they waited, Skye heard footsteps inside approaching the door. Then it opened and her stomach dropped.

A tall blonde man, probably a couple years older than her, opened the door, gaping at her. his expression was surprised, but his eyes were hard, reflecting just how fake the surprise on his face was. Derek seemed to notice this too, as the grip of his hand tightened in hers. Looking at the man, she was sure that _he _had been the one to knock her unconscious and leave her in the woods of Beacon Hills. She had done something horrible to get herself covered in blood, and he man standing on the doorstep had tried to finish her off too.

"Skye?" the guy asked.

Then, once again, something clicked for her, one word popping into her head: _brother._

**-:-**

**Ooh, what's up with Skye's brother? :) Hope you guys liked it!**

**Please leave a review and let me know what you think! And I've really liked reading your theories, so leave any of those you have, too :) And quite a few of you were spot on with Skye being a hunter, so kudos to you guys :) **

**Thanks for reading!**

**-DaughterOfPoseidon333**


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